I'm reading On the Road for the first time in acknowledgement of its great American, racing, literary heartbeat. I thought it would be fun to post some of my thoughts as I go. – – – – – –
I wanted to see the sun as it set so as soon as I could don-off the work trappings and deadline woes of the day I did so and set off at a trot in a sleeveless shirt to greet the night breezes that were surely coming. March had come that year like a bashful boy at a dance, cautiously waiting for a pretty girl to make herself available With every courageous warm advancement, he didn’t know if old Wintress might snap in and give him a cold No, but today he was feeling hearty and sure. Aware of his confidence I stepped on out, too, eager to dance myself.
For severe minutes of suburban blocks my body cried out in revolt (I had been sluglike and work-worn with it for a good two weeks), but when I crested the top of a grassy rise and I saw the grinning March sunset I got myself back together and went on in confidence. Down a dusty hill and across the road, I ran up a great flag-poled forested hill and then climbed a tree so to see the last winks of sun. I peered over the miles of house peaks and tree-streets and there was that old March sunset, making tracks down below the earth. A bit satisfied, I stood up on my branch to get a look around me and behind my tree I was met with three great circles of dog-training masters, short-leashed pure Worldbred dogs yipping and lazing and hopping with dog joy. I grinned at their weaving-around community, the playing of it all, and at the kindest grey-haired man who talked so softly to the animals, warming the mean ones with a gentle muzzle touch. I looked down from my tree boughs and a quiet madame with two stately flowing dogs stopped and stared up at me and then over across the hill and miles off to the sun, now setting for sure, a great shaking orange gleam behind the glass horizon of the city. “It’s huge tonight” she offered, and I agreed for sure. When the sun went down and the sky brought out its neons and pinks I started to walk. Down a horse trail I passed a stock-still old mean hound who looked me right square in the eyes and if he was a man he would have cursed my life and taken it right then and there. But the Hispanic teenage boy held him true with a steel collar fit for a criminal and I slinked on by, staring right back. In the cool woods I pondered the snakes coming out of their sliding holes and the skittering things back in the thickets made me turn and turn again. A wise owl hooted and it was just a bird after all, but I wanted truly to see a good old coyote grizzle his lean self across my path. Alone instead, I came back to the buzzing dusk traffic street and as I crossed I wondered if any window passed me with a knowing look, a lonesome look and friendsome look. I peered through the glass as they shot by me but no one looked back, so I made my bobbing way up the next hill. The creek was finally breathing out cold woodsy airs and I passed by refreshed as I came upon the night practicing of some sport well-lit up in a concrete court. The young neighborhood kids batted at something while their parents idled at the curb, burning gas and reading books. I wondered if I’d ever have the parent-patience to sit inside a car on so great a night as that one.
Thinking heavy thoughts with every plodding step I nearly got hit by a red-lighting blue truck careening by, window down and a good old father making his way home to wife and babe for an American meal somewhere in my old neighborhood. Funny thing was, I didn’t even need to cross the street, but there I was thinking of those waiting parents and that old March sunset. I then perked up along the safe sidewalk and there it was: every good old dinner-time smell, every roasted and chicken-fried thing, every meat-loafed and potatoed plate brimming heavy in bright rooms, windows down and good-evening sounds streaming in and smells streaming out. Before I knew it I was back to my own orange puddle of streetlight and wouldn’t you know I passed right by that self-same blue truck, windows up and driver in-house. No lights in my house and no one home. Spring had come at last and I went in to open the windows.
